


No place like home

by Lavanyaa



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 21st Century, Crying, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hugs, Return of the King, Reunions, Tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-10-24 21:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20713061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavanyaa/pseuds/Lavanyaa
Summary: It had been thousands of centuries, and Merlin still hoped. Hope. It was all he had left. And time.After centuries of waiting, of nightmares, hopeless dreams, loneliness, and pain, Merlin finally meets the other half of the coin, again.And this time, Arthur was staying.Arthur was home, once again, and he wasn't going anywhere.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello people!! Happy Merlin's anniversary!!!!!!!!!! Hope you all celebrated by dying and crying over our show :')
> 
> So here you go, my part for this special day.
> 
> There might be some mistakes, since English is not my native language.
> 
> Happy reading!

** _"I lost my way all the _ **

** _way to you_ **

** _and in you _ **

** _I found all the way _ **

** _back to me."_ **

_ **-Atticus. ** _

****Arthur didn't remember anything but pain. Then darkness. He had been laying in Merlin's arms, his servant, no, his friend's tears falling on his pale cheeks, his arms holding him against his chest, protectively. After he had closed his eyes for good, he remained conscious only for a few seconds, to hear Merlin's cries and the heartbreaking scream of his name. He remembered growing colder, the warmth of Merlin's embrace disappearing, as he died in his arms. Then, followed the emptiness. 

He didn't know how long he had been sleeping. He didn't know where he was. He had woken up on a boat. His last memories consisted of pain, heartbreak, and Merlin. But now, as he got up from the boat, he looked around, and saw nothing but a fog, clouding his vision, as a bright, white light surrounded him. No one was there. He was alone. He was wearing his armor. His sword was missing. And his wound was healed. He brought his hand up to his chest, his fingers touching his armor, where some dried blood was still there, making a shiver go through his spine. He still remembered the pain, as Mordred's sword went through his chest, the blade ripping his flesh. He closed his eyes for a few moments, before opening them again, to stare in front him. Then, he heard a noise. 

The wind. He let his hand fall at his side, as he got out of the boat and walked closer, his eyes focused on the space in front of him, following the sound. He didn't feel as heavy as he felt, when he had been laying in Merlin's arms. Now, there was no more pain, no more tears, and no more heaviness. He was feeling as new as a reborn. His heart was light, his mind was clear, but yet confused. 

He heard another noise. He heard it below him. He looked down, searching for the source and saw water. One second, he was walking in empty, and now he was surrounded by water, it reached his chest, and he brought up his arms to anchor himself as he walked, and walked, ahead, staring in front of him. The ground under him was firm. But everything around him was nothing but a blur. He didn't even want to know what was happening, he wanted to get out of here. From the moment he had woken up, he had felt a strange feeling, as if he was being pulled, as if he was being called. And he couldn't fight it. It was beyond him. So he followed. He followed the sound, the call, but he didn't panic. Somehow, wherever or whatever he was walking into, felt awfully, yet rightfully, familiar. 

He walked for a few more minutes, and the more he walked, the more the sound of the wind became louder. He was starting to get colder. As he walked, his mind wandered. Where was he going? Would he be back in Camelot? Would he be back to the time he left the world? Or was he going to walk into another time, years following his death? What happened when he left? What happened to Gwen? To his knights? To his kingdom? To his people? 

What happened to Merlin? 

The last question brought him guilt, as well as sadness. He had been so stupid. Merlin had been right next to him, at his side, all those years, protecting him and saving from his enemies and from himself, and Arthur hadn't known. He had called him names, idiot, useless, he had yelled at him in anger, and pushed him away so many times, yet Merlin hadn't left. He had stayed, despite Arthur's rude behavior and his hatred for magic. 

Magic.

Something he had hated his whole life, something he had looked upon with disgust and fear, and now, it had been the only thing which had kept him alive all these years. Magic. And Merlin. A simple village boy. A citizen of Camelot. A servant. His servant. His friend. His confident. His counselor. The person he had, and still, trusted the most. The one who had always said the right things to him, for his sake and the sake of his kingdom. He had told him to not to allow magic back into Camelot, to save his life. He had done the most, and he had done all of it in secret, hiding in the shadows, out of everyone's sight and knowledge. Arthur's knowledge. Of course, Merlin had lied to him. Arthur had never been kind to his people or to him. He had always pushed away the thought that sorcerers and warlocks could be good people. That magic could be good. But now, he knew. He knew what Merlin had done for him, for his people, with his magic and his powers. He had been wrong. He had been so wrong. How could magic be evil, if it was in Merlin's hold? How could anything tied to Merlin be evil or hurtful ? He had always been the kindest, the wisest, putting Arthur and Camelot at first. Merlin had always been by his side, supporting him in everything he had done, telling him how to do things when Arthur was lost, being honest with him with his opinions, and most importantly, he had always intervened when Arthur was going to do a mistake, he had always stopped him from doing something which could have put Camelot at risk. He had always been here. 

Where was he, now? 

Arthur brought his hand up, shielding his face from the sudden, bright light coming from above. 

The sun. 

He let his hand down, and closed his eyes, letting the sun's warmth caress his face, as he looked up. A smile appeared on his face, the first one after so many years, as he felt the sun's glowing light up his face. It was like seeing for the first time. It felt wonderful, to feel the sun under his skin again, after spending God knows how many time in darkness. He was slightly terrified of what he would see on the other side : the world he used to know? Or a world he wouldn't know anymore and wouldn't recognize? 

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, to stare in front of him, with focus, determined. He started to walk again, feeling the water around him fighting him, but he fought back, he pushed, he took another step after another, and kept walking. He didn't know how long it took him, to finally see something in front of him. Grass. Plain, green, shining grass. Everything was green around him. It surrounded him. He looked behind him and saw a hill, far, really far. He suddenly felt breathless, as if he had ran a thousands miles. He realized that it was the sun, and how warm he was feeling under his heavy armor. He looked around him, and saw no one. He was alone. There were nothing but grass, trees, bushes, some benches, and some big rocks here and there. But nothing else. No one else. 

Except for one thing. One person. 

Arthur tilted his head to his side, confused, as he walked out of the water, the ground firm against his boots. Something caught his eyes.

Behind one of the big rocks, he could see the side of someone's shoulder. As he walked closer, he saw the blue jacket the person was wearing. And as he silently walked even more closer, Arthur realized it was simply an old man. 

An old man holding the Pendragon Sigil in his hand. 


	2. 2

Merlin was tired. Every part of his body ached, his weak bones sticking together with the little bit of strength he had still left. His old skin giving away his long presence on earth, part of it still invisible to the human eyes.

There were no older soul than Merlin in this world, it always had been a burden to carry. Centuries had passed, yet, Merlin couldn't help but to think that it had passed very quickly. But there had been many times where Merlin thought that time couldn't go any slower. He had hated those times. Those centuries of suffering and death, where everything surrounding was pain and darkness. Those were the times he had felt the most useless. Witnessing the horror and pain of thousands of people, and forcing himself to ignore it, to hide himself, pretending to unnotice war and battles to avoid trouble, to avoid attention.

The hardest part of being a sorcerer was to stop yourself from helping people too much, because there was no way humans would understand him. With centuries, druids, warlocks and sorcerers had disappeared. There was nobody else, except him. Magic had stopped manifesting itself, the last bit of it taking refuge in Merlin's soul, hiding, protecting itself from the cruelty of humans and their curiosity. So Merlin had stopped using it, less and less as centuries passed. And now, he was living his life as a simple old man, the only magic he was using, was to keep his body intact. He could still feel his magic, hiding deep inside of him, giving up control : trusting Merlin to protect it. Merlin was a powerful warlock, the only one holding the most oldest magic in his palms. Magic had suffered a lot during the last centuries, between the Old Purge, Morgana, and the witch hunting that had followed years later, the only place it had ever been safe was with Merlin. So when Merlin had decided to stop using magic, it hadn't resisted.

The hardest part of being immortal was to remain invisible through the centuries. At first, Merlin had made himself known. At a time, it had been difficult to ignore the others when everyone knew his name. They had still kept faith in him, even if he had failed in Camlaan. He had heard their pleadings for years, in his mind, their power calling to his magic, trying to get in touch with him, when all he had wanted back then was to disappear from this empty world and to never come back again. But he hadn't been able to that. But there was something which was so much worse than to remain invisible when you're immortal. It was to find the strenght to keep living, while everything around you fades to darkness. Life after Camelot was not only meaningless, it also had been worthless. Everything around him had kept living, kept surviving while he remained in the past, all the while desperatly trying to stay in contact with the present. It had been exhausting. It still was. But he had no choice. If his fate was to wait a few other centuries, he would, he had to. He didn't have a choice. He never did.

It had been centuries ago, but that day was still replaying in his mind, every single second being a frozen memory. Sometimes it was easy to ignore them, but other times it wasn't, and during those times it was harder to breathe and even harder to not to break down crying.

Today was one of those day. He woke up this morning with a pit in his stomach, hands clenching his waist as the pain soared into his heart, tears already appearing in his eyes. Every days were the same to Merlin, lonely and empty. But days like today, everything appeared to be worse. A day like today happened once in every year. Merlin hated this day. It was a reminder of how useless and hopeless he was against the course of destiny and life. This day was the terrible reminder of his failure and yet, at the same time, it was the only thing preventing from completely giving up. This day was heartbreaking to think about, but it gave him hope. It gave him unbereable pain, yet it gave him the strength to get out of bed this morning and every others. This day had become a routine. Every single second, from morning to midnight, he would spent it sitting in front of the Lake of Avalon. Staring ahead, or his back turned to it. He would sit on the grass, and think. He would go backwards, memories, beautiful and tragic ones flashing in front his eyes, remembering him all the important moments of his life when he spent it at Camelot. In the Kingdom, his life had been a mess, but he had a specific purpose. Now, all he had in his hands was time. A time he didn't know how to spend except by waiting. Days like today, he would spend it thinking about everyone he had said goodbye to. Gwen. Gaius. Gwaine. Percival. Elyan. Mordred. Lancelot. Morgana. His mother.

Arthur.

This was _his _day.

It was the day when Merlin had held him for the last time, had seen him for the last time. It was the day when he had heard his voice for the last time, when he had stared into his blue eyes for the last time. It was the day when Merlin had been the truest part of himself in front of Arthur : no lies, no secrets, no guilt. It was the very first and the very last day when Arthur had seen the real side of him, the whole part of him. It was the day when Arthur spoke to him for the last time. It was the day when Arthur had said goodbye to him without saying it out loud. It was the day when they had seen each other for the last time. It was the day Arthur died.

It was the day Merlin failed.

And just like every other year, he was currently sitting in front of the Lake of Avalon, ever since the sun appeared this morning, his back against the firm rock, tears leaking from his eyes, his gaze lost as he stared in front of him, most of his mind lost in the past. The only thing keeping him grounded in present, was the Pendragon Sigil he was holding his palm, his hand resting against his knee. His thumb kept caressing the Sigil, and his heart clenched painfully with every breath he took and every tear rolling down on his cheek. Even if he had become familiar and used to this suffering, it didn't make it any better, and definitely not easier. If only, it only became harder. Harder to wake up every morning. Harder to keep living, to keep hope. But he still did it. Just like all the past centuries. Because he had nothing else left to do with his life.

He was so tired. His body was tired. His back was in pain because of the hard stone pressing in his back, every bone in his body ached, but yet, all of this couldn't surpass the pain he was feeling in his heart, the pain his magic was feeling in his soul.

His mind was so far in his memories, his senses so lost in the past, that he didn't hear the sound of feet splashing against the water of the Lake of Avalon. In normal days, he wouldn't pay attention to it. The people living around the Lake and tourists would go down in the Lake. But today was not a normal day. Ever since Arthur died, he had used his magic to keep everyone away from this place one day in every year. It took him another few seconds to acknowledge the noise behind him. A deep, rather loud voice, yet sweet one, breaked into his mind, snatching him from the memories he was lost in too, making him flinch as the voice got closer.

''Hey ! I am talking to you ! Where did you get that ?''

He would recognize that voice from anywhere. He wasn't surprised that he was hallucinating Arthur now, especially on this day. This wasn't the first it had happened. He always had moments like this, imagining Arthur in his life when he was still dead and centuries away from him. Or maybe he was so lost in his memories, his mind was making this up to comfort his broken heart. If Arthur was coming back to him, he would know.

This wasn't real. The shadow standing behind him wasn't real. The presence he was feeling behind him wasn't real. The voice wasn't real.

Arthur wasn't_ real_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up next weekend :)


	3. Chapter 3

Memories of the moment when he had died appeared in front of his eyes, as soon as his eyes ajusted to the place in front of him. It was exactly the same place. Nothing changed. The Lake was the same, and the forest around it was the same. The only difference was that he was alone, Merlin wasn't here with him. There wasn't anyone here, except for a very old man, his back facing him, with _his_ Sigil in his hand.

He couldn't see his face, all he could see was the dark coat he was wearing, his little hat, and the long, long beard which was long enough to reach his waist.

Arthur's mind flashed red light, and his heart spead up as soon as his eyes caught the Sigil of his mother. The one he had given to Merlin.

Merlin.

Why did the old man have it ? What happened to Merlin ? Where was he ? Why did he leave the Sigil behind ? Did he give it away ? Or wasn't he a part of this world anymore ?

Unanswerable questions attacked his mind, and Arthur walked faster.

''Excuse me ?'' called Arthur, still a little away from the man, hoping he would hear him and give the immediate explanation he needed. But the man didnt answer, he didn't even flinch, or moved.

''Excuse me, sir !'' yelled Arthur, this time, a little louder, and he still got the same reaction : none.

He groaned, annoyed, and he stood behind him, still a little away, not wanting to startle him.

But he still raised his voice, hoping the man would finally pay attention to him.

''Hey ! I am talking to you ! Where did you get that ?''

Arthur noticed the man flinch, and released a sigh, at least he heard him. But he still wasn't looking at his way.

''Can you just- just can you look at me for a second ?'' asked Arthur, still standing in distance, but close enough for the man to hear him. Fortunately for him, the old man moved. He brought his head down and look down at his lap, sniffing, his shoulders dropping, shaking. For a second, Arthur felt bad he disturbed him, but he needed answers, now. He knew the man was crying, even if he coudn't see the tears soaking into his long beard. The man still had his back presssed against the stone, and his hand was still clenching his House Sigil, and it took everything in Arthur to not to snatch it away. He needed answers first.

He patiently waited for the old to look at him. The man took another long breath and brought his other hand up, passing it on his face, probably wiping away his tears.

''You're not real.''

Arthur frowned.

''Go away''' said the old, shaky voice, filled with pain and tears, and Arthur swallowed. Why did the voice felt so familiar, yet he couldn't remember why it felt so ?

''Listen-''

''You're not real, you're not real, you're not real.''

Before Arthur could continue, the man brought up his knees to his chest, put his head between, and kept muttering the same sentence over and over again.

Arthur was losing his patience and he was never the one controling his emotions or annoyance. So he went directly to the point.

''Look, I will leave you alone, just give me my Sigil back !'' said Arthur, raising his voice by the end of his sentence, and he noticed how the old man on the ground, flinched, how his breathing quickened, as his shoulders stopped shaking.

Merlin was confused. This wasn't like the usual stuff. Normally, Arthur's appareance would last only a few seconds. He would make Merlin hopeful, making his heart burst with joy and hope, only to disappear the next second, leaving Merlin in despair and darkness. Then, Merlin would go back to waiting, staring ahead of him, his gaze lost in front of him, as the pieces of his heart would crumble even more to the floor. But this time was different. He felt the same kind of hope he had always felt when he thinks that Arthur was back to him. He was desperately waiting for Arthur to leave, again, so he could go back to his miserable life.But the shadow behind him was still here. Before he could help it, or stop it, his heart jumped against his chest, bursting with a new hope, as he clenched his eyes shut and prayed, really prayed, that this time, he woudn't disappear on him.

He waited for a few more seconds, listening to the way Arthur sighed in annoyance, making him remember the thousand times where he would be simply exasperated with him. It almost made him smile, but as soon as the smile appeared, it went away, by the simple thought that this all could be a wicked trick of his imagination. He didn't want to look behind him, and see Arthur's body disappear as soon as Merlin's eyes would caught the sight of him. The pain would be familiar, but heart-wrenching in a new way. And Merlin just wanted this pain to stop. He didn't want to stay here anymore if his mind couldn't let him travel back in peace to his past. He could go back to his old, empty, useless apartment, where he could lay in his bed and do nothing for the rest of the day. So he took a final, long and steady breath, and raised his head from his hidding spot, all the while keeping his head down, avoiding the figure behind him, because if he stared into that direction, he would lose the fight, he wouldn't be able to walk away and push back the threatening hope spiraling out of his control.

He raised himself up, as fast as he could, grunting as his bones cracked because of the effort he was putting into it ; he wanted to be away from this … hallucination, as soon as possible. That was exactly what it was, there were no other words to explain this. His hand, the one which wasn't holding Arthur's Sigil, rested against the wide stone, to support his body for a while, giving Merlin some seconds to get his breath and emotions under control. He kept his eyes down, his long beard covering his chest. He held the Pendragon Sigil in his palm with a little more force, as if he was scared it would disappear too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> You can hit kudos or leave a comment if you liked it ❤️
> 
> The next and final chapter will be up in a few days, or next week, depends on my laziness x)
> 
> Also, if you're interested, you can check my other fics in the fandom ;)


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